


Bursting Me Wide Open, Impossible To Hide

by snnycarisi



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: (all canon typical), Abusive Sonia Kaspbrak, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Dorks in Love, Eddie is Repressed, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gay Richie Tozier, LET EDDIE RUN, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, based on the film Billy Elliot, but he doesn't NOT have feelings for Richie, but it's actually let eddie dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23906863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snnycarisi/pseuds/snnycarisi
Summary: Richie laughed, loud and bright, “If you want, while you’re prancing around your little tutu, I’ll distract your mom by being balls deep in—” he was cut off by Eddie kicking his shin. Hard. The thing about Eddie was, everyone thought he was some kind of porcelain doll, fragile and breakable, but he really wasn’t. Richie kicked him right back.“I won’t be wearing a tutu, are you fucking kidding me? That’s just for ballerinas, and by the way, do you know how strong guys have to be to do ballet? I’ll probably be able to kick your ass soon, Tozier.”Richie counted on it.***An AU based on the film Billy Elliot, where Eddie takes ballet lessons in secret, hoping to leave his oppressive mother and dance in New York.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii just a little note that this fic is written in two parts. The first (this one) is set when they're kids, and will be uploaded in 3 chapters, and the second one is set when they're adults, and I don't know how many chapters it'll have because I haven't written it yet. 
> 
> Another note: in Billy Elliot, Billy's dad is unsupportive at first, but grows to understand Billy's passion for dance and eventually accepts him. This is not how this fic will work, because I wasn't interested in writing a redemption arc for Sonia. She's just a bastard. 
> 
> Title comes from the song Electricity, from the Billy Elliot musical
> 
> Okay I think that's it, enjoy!!

On the first weekend of November, Eddie asked Richie to meet under the turnpike bridge that marked the starting place of the thick greenery known to the children of Derry as the Barrens. This was not without protest from Richie— having rented his body-weight in VHS tapes from the video store, he was perfectly happy to spend one of the first cold Saturdays of the season doing fuck all— but at the end of the day, if Eddie wanted something, Richie would always begrudgingly do it. 

Crouched with his back against the cool concrete tunnel and staring off into the Barrens, Richie waited for Eddie to turn up. Despite the cold, the dense greenery always looked inviting, as if time didn’t apply there and it was always summer. He himself had never ventured much further than this— clumsy by nature and with a sense of direction so poor he had often gotten lost in his own home as a child, Richie would never be able to find his way out again. Eddie was much better at that kind of stuff, but based on the one time Richie suggested they go exploring and Eddie nearly burst a blood vessel explaining why exactly that was a terrible idea, it didn’t seem likely to happen anytime soon. 

It was cold there, under the bridge, and Richie just wished he would hurry up so they could get whatever it was Eddie had to say over and done with. 

After a few minutes (which, at 13 years old, felt like a few hours) Eddie’s bike pulled up next to where Richie had dumped his. Panting slightly, and wrapped up in so many layers it was a wonder he was able to move properly, Eddie clambered down to where Richie was sitting.

His expression was deathly serious but Richie didn’t take much notice. Eddie took everything very seriously, it was just who he was, so this didn’t mean much of anything. And yes, he had told Richie over the phone that what he had to say was very important and top secret, but it seemed more likely to be nothing than anything  _ actually  _ important. But still, there was something in Eddie’s eyes that made Richie nervous. Something that said he was unsure. Whether he was unsure about this Important Thing, or, worse, unsure about telling him, Richie couldn’t tell. But it scared him more than he was willing to admit.

So, as he often did when in distress, Richie opened his mouth.

“How’s it hanging Eds? Did your mom have to roll you out the door in that coat?” The coat  _ was  _ ridiculous, and turned Eddie into a cheap knock-off of the Stay Puft man.

“Shut up Richie,” he muttered, breathing deeply from his inhaler and beginning to pace around across the river bank, “don’t blame me when you catch a fucking cold from being out here in— are you seriously only wearing that hoodie? Do you know how stupid that is?”

The hoodie in question was very thin, and Richie  _ was  _ cold, but dressing in anticipation for the weather had never been his strong suit, and his mom hadn’t been home to tell him to rug up when he left the house. 

“Maybe I’m just too hot and sexy to need clothes. Ever thought about that?”

Eddie just glared at him and continued to pace. He did that a lot; he had too much energy inside of him to keep still for more than a minute, and it had been one of the things that drew Richie to him when they were little. Still, he was no fun when he went all quiet like this, and Richie felt himself getting more and more anxious for him to just spit it out. 

“Okay, I need to tell you something and I need you to promise me you’re not gonna tell anyone, alright?” he started, eye’s locked on Richie’s feet. 

Richie’s first thought was, _ who the fuck would I tell? _ But figured it safer to shut his mouth for once and nod in agreement.

What Eddie meant to say, then, was, ‘I’ve started taking dance lessons in secret, and if my mom finds out she’ll flip her shit and probably ship me off to church school, so I need you to cover for me and let me tell her I’m at your house every Tuesday afternoon.’ but what came out was more like, “I’vestartedtakingdancelessonsinsecret andifmymomfindoutshe’llfliphershit andprobablyshipmeofftochurchschoolsoIneedyouto coverformeandletmetellherI’matyourhouseeveryTuesdayafternoon.” 

Honestly, it was a lot to process. But at this point, Richie was fluent in Eddie’s motormouth garble, so he caught on pretty quickly. 

And it made sense— over the past few weeks he’d noticed how Eddie’s usually scrawny legs had developed some muscle (not that he was looking, per say, Richie just noticed these things when it came to Eddie) and he’d been around to hang out after school less and less. But the image of Eddie doing any kind of dance was so ludacris, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“What, so like,” he said dumbly, “breakdancing or something?”

Richie fought to suppress a giggle at the thought of Eddie in parachute pants throwing himself around on the floor. Eddie didn’t laugh.

He folded his arms over his chest defensively. “No,  _ ballet _ , dipshit. Which is much more sophisticated— I mean, it’s fucking prestigious art form—”

The thing about Eddie was, when he had his mind set on something there was no going back. His eyes were full of firey determination as he spat out facts about the dance (which Richie wasn’t really listening to, anyway) and a comforting warmth filled Richie’s chest.

  
It hit him what Eddie was really doing. Sneaking around behind his psycho mother’s back to  _ dance  _ of all things. Richie was still too young to really understand the extent of Mrs Kaspbrak’s insanity, but what he did understand was that she was far more overbearing than any mother should be. He knew, for example, that he had to do P.E. alone because Eddie wasn’t allowed to run, and he knew that Eddie always ended up sulking when he was forced to sit out. But he also knew that, until now, despite how unhappy it made him, Eddie always did what his mother asked. It wasn’t like Richie held it against him, but there was a part of

him that was just itching for this moment, the one where Eddie finally stopped giving a fuck about the rules and made himself happy. 

Eddie’s voice cut back in, “I know you probably think it’s wimpy or whatever and I don’t really care. Just don’t tell my mom.” 

Another thing about Eddie was, Richie was totally, utterly, indisputably in love with him. He’d known for a while now, but he’d never felt it as hard as he did in that moment.

Eddie was just so fucking incredible, it blew his mind. He was so strong and brave and incredible and even if Richie did think it was wimpy (which he didn’t really), he was willing to go the rest of his life pretending he didn’t. 

His nose, which was pink from the cold, was scrunched up so adorably, and his eyes burned holes in Richie’s hands as he fidgeted with a blade of grass. Realising he hadn’t actually said anything yet, Richie broke into a grin.

“It’s not wimpy, Eds, it’s like, kind of badass.” on second thought he added, “I mean, you could have chosen a cooler way to make Mrs K go fuckin’ ballistic, like boxing or drag racing, but I mean, this is cool too.”

Staring cautiously at Richie, Eddie asked, “so you’ll cover for me?”

Richie laughed, loud and bright, “yeah, no shit dingus. If you want, while you’re prancing around your little tutu, I’ll distract your mom by being balls deep in—” he was cut off by Eddie kicking his shin. Hard. The thing about Eddie was, everyone thought he was some kind of porcelain doll, fragile and breakable, but he really wasn’t. Richie kicked him right back. 

“I won’t be wearing a tutu, are you fucking kidding me? That’s just for ballerinas, and by the way, do you know how strong guys have to be to do ballet? I’ll probably be able to kick your ass soon, Tozier.”

Richie counted on it. 

* * *

Eddie sat atop the covers of his neatly made bed, and exhaled. Lessons had been getting more frequent and more intense as the weather got colder, and a fresh wave of anxiety consumed him every time he came home, each day possibly being the day his mom found out what he had been doing. Of course he felt guilty keeping this from her— usually, he would never even consider lying to his mother— but it felt kind of good, too. Like he was Batman or Spiderman or one of the other superheros from the comics he and Richie read, like he had a secret identity with special powers. Sure, dancing was maybe the lamest power he could have, but it didn’t feel that way. 

When he was dancing, he was powerful. Strong. Capable. When he was dancing, he wasn’t Eddie Kaspbrak who needed his lung-sucker (as Richie called it) just to breathe normally, and he wasn’t Eddie Kaspbrak who got good grades, not because he was particularly smart, but because most of his teachers felt sorry for him. He wasn’t Eddie Kaspbrak who was coddled by a mother he knew meant well,  but her love was often lost-in-translation, presenting itself instead as smothering actions influenced by her own anxiety. When he was dancing, he was just himself. 

He’d started lessons with Mr Mellon about two months ago, and was getting better every day. He worked hard, and he was good at it. For the first time in his life, he  _ knew  _ he was good at something.

It began one dismal afternoon when Eddie was once again forced to sit out of P.E. class. From the way Richie spoke about it, logically, he knew running laps around the football field wasn’t all it was cracked up to be; by the end your legs felt like lead and your lungs burned, making you feel sick to your stomach. It was hard, and it hurt. But Eddie didn’t care, he wanted to feel the burn and he wanted his muscles to ache days later. Really, he just wanted to _feel_. 

When he’d expressed this to Richie, he’d given him a funny look and laughed. He didn’t understand. When Richie was little, he’d been allowed to graze his elbows and fall out of trees. And sure, he wasn’t the most popular kid in their class but talking was his strong suit and he would talk to anyone who would listen to him, so he had people he could grumble with about how fuckin’ exhausted they were afterwards. Eddie had none of that. 

Since his father’s death when he was barely out of diapers, his mother had wrapped him in bubble wrap, which did a good job of keeping a barrier between him and things that could hurt him, but that barrier never lifted. He was protected from the bad things in the world, but kept away from the good things, too. While the other kids stood together, winded but laughing, Eddie sat alone. 

It was pretty easy for him to blend into the background, so one day, instead of wallowing in self pity, he picked himself up off the bleachers and wandered away from the field. 

Long story short, he stumbled upon Mr Mellon’s ballet class. He wasn’t sure what it was about the dance that had transfixed him so, but Eddie found that he couldn’t tear himself away from the doorway looking into the little dance studio set up in the gym. 

Then, Mellon had caught sight of him. “Either join in or scram, kid.” he said, not so kindly. 

A huge part of Eddie desperately wanted to ignore every part of himself that screamed to get the hell out of there. He wanted to join in. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted it. But, the part of him that was terrified— terrified of what the girls in the class would think of him, terrified of what the boys in his class would do when they found out, terrified  _ his mother  _ would find out— won. Face bright red, he turned on his heels and stomped back towards the field. 

Maybe that would have been that, if it weren’t for Mellon finding him again as school came to an end. Where he had before been sitting alone on the bleachers, Eddie now had company.

“You know,” he had said, his tone much more friendly than it had been before, “there’s nothing stopping you joining my class if that’s what you want to do.”

“My mom wouldn’t let me.” Eddie responded shyly, unable to make eye contact. Above everything, it was just embarrassing to have to admit he was a mama’s boy. 

Mellon was quiet for a moment, and studied Eddie intently. 

“You’re Sonia Kaspbrak’s kid, aren’t you?”

Eddie nodded, only slightly shocked he knew his mom. It was a small town, after all, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t aware of the reputation his mother had made for herself as nosey gossip. Not many people liked her. 

“Well if you want to learn, I promise not to tell her.” 

“Why would you do that?” Eddie snapped, then immediately regretted it. Every stranger danger lesson he’d ever been taught flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t be blamed for feeling a little on-edge. 

Mellon thought for a second, then answered, “well, I think everyone deserves a chance to try things. And who knows? Maybe you’ll be good.”

From then on, Eddie trained privately with Mellon, learning the ins and outs of the dance. He found himself coming home exhausted, his body pushed to its limit, and he reveled in every twinge of pain. 

The perfect combination of naturally talented and a hard worker, within these two months Eddie had gotten better than the students Mellon had been teaching for over a year. It also made Eddie happier than he would ever let on to have an adult recognise his ability. Mellon never treated him differently.  He never acted as if the boy in front of him was weak or fragile— despite his less than average height and terrible asthma, Mellon knew he was anything but. 

And today, Eddie had learned his talent might be worth something. 

There was a scholarship for a big fancy ballet academy in New York, and Mellon wanted one of his students to try out for it. He’d chosen Eddie. Eddie wasn’t sure if it was one hundred per cent because of his skill, or partly because, even if they’d never explicitly talked about it, Mellon knew something of Eddie’s somewhat miserable home life. Either way, he wanted it. He wanted it so badly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever care about anything more.

Now that he was home, he could really think about what it would mean to leave home, to leave Derry all together. 

The idea of leaving his mom behind both terrified and excited him immensely. On one hand, going to New York would mean finally gaining his independence and slipping free from her grasp. He could do whatever he wanted to do and there would be no one to stop him. But a bigger part of him cried that he wouldn’t be able to live without his mommy. He was just a child, after all, and like most kids, at the end of the day he just wanted him mom. It didn’t matter how awful she could be sometimes, she’d raised him and she was the only source of comfort he had ever known. 

More than that, she’d made it her life’s mission to make absolutely sure she was around to do everything for her son. Eddie didn’t know how to do laundry and he didn’t know how to cook or clean very well. Taking care of himself had never been something he needed to worry about, not like Richie, who was alone after school almost every day and barely ever saw his parents (their family didn’t have much money, and his parents worked odd hours) and he was partly grateful for that. But another part of him yearned for a life outside of what his ma had created for him. 

While, of course, he loved his mom, he also loved dance. It was all he ever wanted to do, and he knew if he took this opportunity, he could have that. Whatever it took, even if that meant leaving home, he was willing to do it. 

But then again, there was a possibility he wouldn’t get in. He might work his ass off, only to fail. His stomach plummeted at the thought. 

  
Because if he admitted to his mother what he had been doing after school, she would freak out. There was no denying it, and he knew it was inevitable that she did find out. If he got into the ballet academy, it wouldn’t matter. She would probably cry and beg him not to go, but private school _for free_ in _New York City_ … she just might change her mind. But if he tried out and then failed, having to stay in Derry for at least another five years , he didn’t think she would ever get over it. She would worry about what the neighbours thought of him, what they thought of _her_.  He’d probably never see the sun again, permanently grounded. 

There was so much at stake, he just didn’t know what to do. 

Richie would know. Richie was always so sure of everything, and never went through the mental gymnastics his best friend dealt with. He just knew. 

It hit Eddie that he could just  _ ask  _ now that his secret was no longer a secret to the other boy. He had known, ultimately, that asking for Richie’s help initially couldn’t have gone any way but smoothly. Deep down he knew Richie would do anything he asked of him, he wasn’t sure  _ why,  _ but he knew. The power he had over the boy was too much for him to think about sometimes, and it made his stomach flip. It came in handy for this, though.

While he knew Richie would cover for him, he had expected a little more teasing about being a freakin’ _ballet dancer_ in secret— it was practically gold material for Richie— but he rarely (if ever) made fun.

Richie had actually been really good about it, and never mentioned it unless he was asking a question (of which he had many, everything from “so if you don’t wear a tutu, what do you wear?” to “is Mellon like, super buff? Can he lift you up over his head and cool shit like that?”) and this comforted him, making him feel much less alone. 

He realised, then, that leaving Derry would mean leaving Richie. The thought was almost as unbearable as leaving his mother. While his mom made sure he was weak so that she could be strong _for_ him, Richie made Eddie strong. At least, he made him _feel_ like he was. And Richie didn’t have anyone else— Eddie’s mother, at least, had her sisters up in Bangor and Portland. His eyes welled with tears but he quickly blinked them away and suppressed the pang in his chest. He would talk to Richie about this tomorrow, and maybe then he would be more sure of what to do.

* * *

Eddie’s usually pristine bedroom had been taken over by Richie’s presence; it was like everywhere he went, he left a trail of mess behind him. As Eddie sat with one leg crossed over the other in his desk chair, Richie had made himself comfortable, spread out on his stomach in Eddie’s now crumpled sheets. One of his dirty sneakers stood by the doorway, while the other stood at the foot of the bed and backpack had been chucked carelessly on the floor. Eddie didn’t mind the mess, though, because the company made up for it (not that he would ever admit this, he would probably spend the rest of his life yelling at Richie to clean his shit up). 

He carefully explained the situation to Richie, making sure to point out exactly what it was that scared him but also exactly what made him want to try. 

When he was finished, he asked, “so, what do you think?”

Richie hesitated for a moment, then said, “I don’t think you should bother.”

For a second, Eddie was taken aback. It wasn’t at all what he had expected Richie to say. 

“Why not?” he asked, slightly hesitantly.

“Well…” Richie started, “I’d miss you.”

His teasing grin fell flat, and there was a sincerity behind his eyes neither boy wanted to acknowledge. So Eddie didn’t acknowledge it, and instead shot him a disapproving glare. 

“Alright alright, Eds,” Richie waved a hand dismissively in front of his face, “you’ll get in. I don’t think you need to worry about that part. But also, you’re the toughest little shit I know, and I think you’ll be fine without Mrs K, Eds,  _ sincerely _ . Besides, you leaving will give her more alone time with me...”

And with that, Eddie knew what he was going to do.

* * *

The night of December 25th, Richie built a snowman in the middle of the street. It wasn’t his street, and it wasn’t a good snowman, but neither fact bothered him. All that mattered was that Eddie would be joining him soon. 

The plan to meet up on Christmas had been in development since before winter break. Eddie’s aunts were due to come down and stay with him and his mother, and as the date of their arrival approached, his mood grew all the more sour. In their last biology class of the year, it was Richie who came up with the master plan for Eddie to sneak out after Christmas dinner, and spend the night wandering the empty streets of Derry with him. Richie’s family didn’t celebrate Christmas (his mother was Jewish, and his father, an out of practice Methodist, wasn’t around that night anyway) so he was pretty sure he could slip away at some point in the evening unnoticed. 

According to the plan, Eddie would feign exhaustion after the meal, and go to bed early. His mother and aunts, too wrapped up in cleaning and gossip, would let him go without another thought. Then, Eddie would sneak out of his bedroom window (which, thankfully, was on the ground floor) and meet Richie one street over from his own. 

It was nearing 8:30pm now, and still no sign of Eddie. Richie was bored out of his mind.

Then, the crunching sound of footsteps approached, and Richie saw Eddie trudging towards him from around the corner. He broke out into a grin at the sight of the smaller boy, who had so many layers he looked like a shapeless blur under the streetlights. As he got closer, Richie saw Eddie was scowling.

“That’s a shitty fuckin’ snowman, Rich.” he said, hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

“Well hello to you too, Spaghetti Man, get anything good today?” 

Eddie scoffed. “If an itchy knitted scarf, pair of socks, and sweater are your idea of good, then sure.”

Richie chuckled quietly, making Eddie’s expression soften, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Anyway,” Eddie continued, “it’s been actual hell at home, I’m not joking, so I’m glad to get the fuck out of there.”

“Aw,” Richie cooed, “no fun hanging with mommy and aunt Margey?” 

“And aunt Delores.” Eddie corrected, his face once again scrunched up in a scowl. “I hate it when they’re all together. All they do is pinch my cheeks and call me cute. I  _ hate  _ it.”

“Well, Eds,” Richie started, lifting his gloved hand out of his pocket, “that’s just because they see what a cutie you are!” and before Eddie could intercept, Richie reached forward and pinched his cheek, and not particularly softly.

Eddie shrieked and shoved Richie away, making him lose his balance and fall into his sad looking snowman. Eddie grinned in triumph while Richie huffed, brushing dirty snow off the seat of his jeans and readjusting his glasses as he stood back up. 

“Ah say, ah say!” he yelled in what he called his Colonel Sanders voice, “this here boy’s a cutie patootie, yes he is!”

“Oh, fuck off.” Eddie grumbled. 

The thing was, when Richie called Eddie cute, he meant it completely seriously. His nose and the tips of his ears were pink from the cold, and the cheek Richie had pinched was smooth but now bright red. He was cute when he was cranky and he was cute when he was proud of himself for getting back at Richie; no matter what, to Richie, he was adorable. Richie also noted that he was positive Eddie didn’t actually hate it when _he_ called him that, only pretended to, and Richie didn’t know what that meant. 

“Hello? Earth to dickbrain?” Eddie asked impatiently, snapping his glove-less fingers in front of Richie’s face to bring him back to reality. Richie shook his head to clear it of thoughts.

“Oh wait, I have something for you,” Richie remembered, pulling a bottle out of the inside pocket of his coat. It was a half empty bottle of brandy— a nice one, at that— that he had found lying around the house. He’d never drank alcohol before, and knew that Eddie hadn’t either, so what would be a better time to try something new than Christmas day? “Happy Christmas!”

Eddie eyed the bottle suspiciously, and watched as Richie unscrewed the cap, taking a large swig and trying not to grimace as it went down. He passed the bottle to Eddie, who only held it away from himself for a moment, before bringing it up to his lips. Eddie took a sip, but as the amber liquid touched his tongue, he spat furiously into the snow at his feet. 

“That’s disguising, fuck, how do people drink that?” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed, but smiled when Richie burst out laughing. 

“You’ll get used to it.” he replied, taking another sip and admitting only to himself that yeah, it  _ was  _ disgusting. 

They began to walk now, and headed towards nowhere in particular, content to just see where the night took them. Richie wasn’t worried about getting lost;  Eddie was born to navigate, and he’d said many times it was like the boy had a compass built into him, so he knew he would be able to get them home again. 

The whole way, Eddie complained about the cold. Despite the million layers under his coat, multiple scarves and a thick beanie he kept pulling over his ears and down his forehead until it nearly covered his eyebrows, he still shivered slightly while he yapped away about how shitty it was to live so far north. The worst part, according to Eddie, was that he forgot to get gloves as he was sneaking out of the house. His hands were  _ freezing, Rich, seriously, I think I’m gonna get frostbite.  _

Richie rolled his eyes but smiled fondly at him, “I think you’ll live.”

“Sure,” Eddie spat back, “say that again when I need fucking robot arms or something because my hands have frozen off.”

Richie didn’t know what came over him in that moment, if it was the alcohol he had consumed or the spirit of Christmas or maybe he had just grown some balls, finally, but instead of laughing at Eddie, he stopped and took off one of his own gloves and slipped it onto Eddie’s hand. With his now bare hand, he took Eddie’s bare hand (which was fucking cold, actually) and intertwined it with his, shoving both of their hands into his pocket. 

Eddie stopped moving too, and looked down at the glove that was a little too big for his hand, and then up at Richie’s face. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice suddenly very small.

Richie looked down at his soggy sneakers. “Just warming your hands, dipshit.” 

Neither boy said anything for a few moments, and Richie gathered up the courage to glance down at Eddie’s face. Both cheeks were bright red now, and Richie wasn’t sure it was just because of the cold. A little tuft of fluffy brown hair had gotten trapped between his hat and his forehead, and Eddie brushed it away from his eyes. Faint freckles dotted his nose and the chickenpox scar under his left eyebrow was as white as ever. Richie absorbed all of this, all of  _ Eddie  _ and suddenly felt overwhelmed with the need to do... something. 

He leaned forward, and lightly pressed his cold lips to Eddie’s burning hot cheek. 

As quickly as he leaned in, he pulled away and tried to study Eddie’s expression. But he couldn’t read him. Richie thought he was maybe surprised but maybe angry or even a little hurt? It didn’t look good, either way, and shame burned deep within his stomach. He was probably angry. Maybe he would punch Richie and that was alright, Richie thought, he probably deserved it. 

“Richie…” Eddie said, barely a whisper, “just because I do ballet, it doesn’t make me gay.” 

It wasn’t fun anymore, and all Richie wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry. 

Eddie wasn’t angry, he was hurt. Richie had done the one thing he had silently swore to himself he would never do, and that was hurt Eddie’s feelings. Not only that, but their friendship was probably ruined. He’d gone and fucked it all up and was now going to lose his best friend, all because he couldn’t stop himself from being a stupid fucking fairy. When other kids at school called him that, he usually didn’t let it get to him, but now it was Eddie and sure, Eddie hadn’t said anything mean like that but Richie could feel it, he could feel that Eddie was thinking it and probably hated him now for being so disgusting. 

Not only did Eddie hate him now, he’d probably go and tell everyone just how disgusting Richie was and then everyone would know. Maybe Richie’s mom would find out and start to hate him too. The thought made him want to puke. 

Richie realised, then, that he was really, truly alone in this. 

Despite everything running through Richie’s mind even faster than it usual (which was pretty damn fast), all he could think to say was, “please don’t tell anyone.”

Then, whatever unpleasant thing Eddie had been thinking was seemingly replaced with pure empathy. Realising how upset Richie was made him snap out of it completely. 

Eddie’s lips were painted with a tiny, kind smile. “Of course I won’t, idiot. Come on, I’ve just thought of somewhere we can go to warm up.”

And with that, Eddie began to walk again, like nothing had happened. At some point, he must have removed his hand from Richie’s pocket without Richie noticing, and that hand now rested inside his own pocket. 

He didn’t hate Richie, and he would keep his secret. I guess that makes us even, Richie thought, and the tears that had been welling in his eyes dried. He would be okay. Eddie would be okay. They would be friends forever, just like they had always said. Richie decided that loving Eddie from afar wasn’t so bad, and he could keep doing that for the rest of his life if it came to that. 

Like always, Richie picked up his feet and followed after Eddie. 

* * *

In the twenty or so minutes it took to walk to the dance studio, Eddie had done a pretty good job of erasing what happened from his mind. It had hurt him at first, that Richie would assume such things about him because of his new found passion, because Richie  _ knew  _ Eddie and he wasn’t like some of the other assholes in town. But pretty quickly Eddie had realised it wasn’t about him, it wasn’t about who  _ he  _ was, it was about Richie. And Richie was terrified. 

Richie had always been the kind of person to play his cards close to his chest, and it took a lot of time and nagging to get him to talk about things that were upsetting him. To see Richie so obviously scared and upset… it made Eddie more uncomfortable than anything else he could possibly do. So Eddie’s own feelings didn’t matter, then, all that mattered was making Richie feel better. 

Eddie knew the dance studio would be open. Mr Mellon left it unlocked over Christmas break so that, even though he was spending the holiday out of town with his partner, Eddie could still go in and practise if he wanted to. The studio would be warm (well, not  _ warm  _ per say, but not windy, so it was at least a step up from the streets) and it was a comfort for him to be in that space. He just hoped Richie would feel the same. It was his sanctuary, after all, and he just hoped Richie would appreciate him taking him there. 

As soon as they were inside, Richie made a b-line for the supply closet, and began rooting through the box of costumes (mostly very old ones from recitals of years past). He pulled out two pink, frilly tutus that had definitely seen better days, and grinned as he threw one of them to Eddie. Eddie glared at him as Richie pulled the other tutu on over his jeans, wiggling his eyebrows and shaking his hips to show off. Although Eddie pretended to be put out, as he often did with Richie, he was glad for his friend to be back to his usual self. 

Then, Richie spotted the cassette player. “Wonder what tunes we have in here…” Richie mumbled, mostly to himself, as he fiddled with it, trying to turn it on. 

Girls Just Want to Have Fun blasted out of the speaker and through the empty, echo-y room. Richie cackled, while Eddie tried to stop the colour from rising in his cheeks. 

“This your tape, Eds?” Richie asked, trotting over and elbowing Eddie. Eddie scowled. 

“No, asshole, Mellon probably left it here before he went away.” It wasn’t true, and he was sure Richie knew that, but he let it go anyway.

Instead, Richie moved over to the bar and began to contort his body in a way Eddie thought was meant to somehow resemble ballet. Eddie laughed despite himself, and walked over to join him. 

“You’re not doing it right, here—” he took hold of Richie’s hands and positioned them correctly, “first position. Keep your back straight, stop slouching.”

Richie laughed, “jeez, is the point of this to make me look like I’ve got a stick up my ass?”

“Pretty much. Tilt your chin up more.” Eddie reached out and gently lifted Richie’s chin. He felt the sharp exhale against his fingertips, but pretended he didn’t. “There you go. Perfect.” 

Eddie backed away and admired his work; Richie standing stiffly and looking uncomfortable, like his shoulders would slacken any moment now. It gave him a little jolt of pride to know he was better at this than Richie, as silly as it sounded. Mostly it just solidified in his mind that this didn’t come naturally to most people, and he really was special. As the chorus of the song picked up, he moved away from the bar and began to dance. He had no routine, so it wasn’t exactly his best work, but he could feel Richie’s eyes transfixed on him, so he didn’t stop. 

Eventually, Richie joined in, jumping about the room with a stupid grin plastered to his cheeks. Eddie was smiling too— although he loved ballet, he rarely had this much  _ fun  _ doing it. Their moves became sloppier and the sound of laughter filled the studio. Eddie wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. 

* * *

Kathy Van Prett had lived next door to the Kaspbrak family for as long as they had lived in Derry. She remembered the day Frank and Sonia brought home their newborn son, Edward, and she remembered Frank’s tragic battle with cancer. Safe to say, she knew them well. But she had never really warmed to Sonia— she knew the woman had quite the ear for gossip, and while she would never admit that she too spent far more time than necessary digging around in other people’s business, she had never trusted her. 

Another thing about Kathy was that she was not a good sleeper. Often, she found herself walking around the neighbourhood at night while her husband snored softly in their bed. Tonight, she wandered past Derry’s only middle school, which, strangely, was not locked up.  _ Teenagers, _ she thought to herself,  _ it must be teenagers that have broken in, probably vandalising.  _ So, as any reasonable person would, she walked right into the unlocked gates to see what was up. 

The sound of giggles and loud music filled the halls, and she expected to hear the rattle of spray cans any second. But, as she moved closer to the source of the noise, she caught no sign of the destruction she had expected. It sounded more like children than teenagers, and that relaxed her significantly. Children were still scared of adults, and she was sure she’d be able to frighten the life out of these rascals. 

The noises were coming from the dance studio, and as she stuck her head inside, to her surprise, the Kaspbrak boy was prancing around the room as if he owned the place. 

A satisfied, yet almost shark-like grin came across her face, and she quietly left that hallway in search of a telephone. 

“Hello? Who is this?” Sonia’s voice, thick with suspicion, came through the receiver.

“Sonia, it’s Mrs Van Prett from next door,” she started, trying to keep the glee out of her voice, “I’m at the middle school right now, and I think you might like to get down here. It’s your boy.”

“Eddie? Eddie isn’t at school, it's  _ Christmas _ , he’s here at home with me, asleep.” 

“I’m afraid you might want to come down here.” she repeated.

Sonia huffed. “Hold on a moment, please.” 

A minute or so passed, and Kathy heard the muffled sounds of Sonia’s panicked shouting, then two more voices joining in on the chaos. 

Eventually, one of the other women in the room picked the phone back up. “Hello, this is Delores, Sonia’s sister— we’ll be on our way over shortly. Is Eddie hurt?”

“No,” then added, “not yet, at least.” for good measure.

Arms folded over her chest and feeling more smug than she ever had before, Kathy waited in the hallway for the entourage to turn up. 

* * *

Richie had almost forgotten that they probably weren’t allowed inside the school on Christmas night— that was, until he heard the sounds of thundering footsteps pounding up the halls over the noise of the music and Eddie yelling about nothing in particular (Eddie didn’t really have an inside voice when he was with Richie). Before he could react, Sonia Kaspbrak burst through the open doorway, three women standing a foot or so behind her. Two of the women were almost identical to Mrs Kaspbrak, and Richie assumed they must be the dreaded aunts Delores and Margey, while the third woman (tall and boney— she looked the way Richie assumed witches would, if they were real) he didn’t recognise. 

Eddie’s face lost all it’s colour, and in that moment he seemed very, very small. 

“Eddie, what on Earth is going on here? You’re going to hurt yourself moving like that, it’s not good for your asthma, honey, it’s  _ freezing  _ in here and you know the cold makes you more delicate—” Mrs Kaspbrak babbled, her panicked voice thick with oncoming tears. Her coat was haphazardly thrown over a nightgown and her pale face, stripped of makeup, was framed by wild and unbrushed hair that made her look all the more crazed. Richie would have made a real zinger out of it all if he wasn’t so afraid. 

She lunged at Eddie, an attempt to drag him out of the room, and Eddie snapped out of his shock. Flinching away from her, Richie thought for a moment, that Eddie looked as scared of Mrs Kaspbrak as he himself was, and that thought filled him with so much sadness, he could barely stand it. 

But Eddie was tough, and much braver than Richie. 

“No, Ma,” he said defiantly, “I’m fine. I know what I’m doing, I won’t get hurt.” 

She looked as if she’d been slapped in the face. 

Then, the song that had been playing over the speaker faded, and a new one began. Boy George’s voice rang through the studio,  _ There's a loving in your eyes all the way, If I listen to your lies, would you say…  _ Richie couldn’t help it. Hysterical laughter bubbled up within him— there was no humour to it, mostly fear and desperation, but laughter was the best medicine, as they say. He snorted loudly through his nose, and all of a sudden, the attention was on him.

Richie realised he was still wearing a pink tutu and, face now bright red, he pulled it off as quickly as he could. 

“Eddie, you can’t go sneaking off like that.” one the background women said, thankfully drawing the attention away from Richie. For a kid who spent his whole life begging for it, he really didn’t know what to do when everyone was looking at him. 

Eddie said nothing, just looked at his mother with disdain. She shrunk back a step and burst into wet, honking sobs. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you Eddie, you  _ know  _ not to talk to your Mommy like this! You’re  _ not  _ fine, you’re not! I’m worried about you, honey, I need you to come home with me right now!” 

Eddie shook his head and stood his ground.

“Oh, Eddie,” she moaned, “please, Eddie. Come home with Mommy.”

The tears clearly had their intended effect on Eddie. He looked, frankly, heartbroken to have made his mother cry. Rage boiled up within Richie,  _ she’s faking it, _ he thought,  _ please let him see that she’s faking it. _ He wasn’t sure who the prayer was directed at, but he repeated it like a mantra over and over again in his mind, still standing there in the corner of the room, helpless. 

Eddie looked once at his mother, and for a second Richie thought he was about to cave, but then he looked over at Richie and that fire and determination were right back on his face. 

The chorus of the song picked up, and Eddie began to dance. 

The room fell dead silent apart from the song playing over the speaker, and every pair of eyes was drawn to Eddie. Richie thought that maybe Mrs Kaspbrak would have a conniption, but she just stood there, utterly shocked, watching him perform. Richie had never felt more love for this brave, strong boy than he had in this moment. Stunned with awe and affection, he watched Eddie too. 

As the song faded, Eddie finished, taking an overly dramatic bow. If the situation were any different, Richie would have applauded. 

“I’ve been taking lessons, Ma. I’m sorry for not telling you but… I’m  _ good  _ at this. Mr Mellon thinks I’m even good enough for a scholarship to this private school in New York.” his voice shook ever so slightly, but Eddie didn’t cave.

Whatever trance the dance had put Mrs Kaspbrak in, the mention of lessons snapped her out of it. “Mr Mellon?  _ Adrian  _ Mellon?” she gasped. Eddie nodded hesitantly. “Eddie. Adrian Mellon is a filthy, depraved man and he shouldn’t be allowed near children, I don’t want you ever going near him, do you understand? Oh, my poor, sweet Eddie he’s probably hurting you, isn’t he?” 

Richie didn’t really understand what she meant by that— he’d never spoken to the guy properly, but he’d passed the Richie Tozier seal of coolness after wearing an Alien t-shirt to work one day. They’d never really crossed paths, but Richie liked him well enough and had no idea what she meant when she said he was depraved. From the puzzled look on his face, Eddie didn’t understand either. 

“He’s not hurting me, he’s helping me.” although he didn’t say it outloud,  _ unlike you,  _ was implied. 

“That’s it,” Mrs Kaspbrak huffed, the tears now gone but blotchy patches of colour on her cheeks still there as a reminder of the heartbreak Eddie was subjecting her to. “We’re going home now, and I won’t hear any more of it. You used to be such a good boy, Eddie, used to always listen to Mommy, I don’t know  _ what  _ is going on with you.”

She lunged for him, and grabbed hold of his wrist. For a second, it looked like Eddie was going to fight it, but then he just slumped in defeat and let her lead him out of the room. Tears welled in his eyes but Richie could also see pure, white-hot rage. Then, the group of women and Eddie turned a corner and were out of sight. Gone. And Richie was alone. There was nothing he could do to help his friend, to protect him, though Lord knows Eddie probably didn’t need protecting, he was tough enough to be fine on his own. It still made him feel like shit for having just let them take him away. He should have done something, maybe screamed and threw his shoe at Mrs Kaspbrak’s ugly head to distract her while Eddie ran. 

But good would that have done? It wasn’t like Eddie would have anywhere else to go. 

“You’re Maggie and Went’s boy, aren’t you?” the fourth woman, the one who looked different from the others, had lingered in the hallway outside the studio. “Not sure your father would be too happy to hear you’re breaking and entering, on Christmas of all days.”

“Bite me.” Richie spat, and pushed past her on his way out of the room. 

At around eleven at night, Richie slipped back into his house. At some point his dad must have come home, because he could hear him snoring in his parent’s bedroom, but his mother was still awake and curled up under a blanket in front of the television. Normally, Richie would have gone straight to his room and read a comic until he fell asleep, but for some reason, he instead plopped down next to his mother on the couch. 

“Where have you been, mister?” his mom asked absent-mindedly, her eyes flickering away from It’s a Wonderful Life momentarily to look at her son.

“Just up in my room, Ma.”

She hummed in response, then offered a corner of the blanket to Richie. He shuffled closer and drew it over himself, dozing as the film played in the background. Still, he couldn’t rid his mind of worry about Eddie. All he wanted was for him to be okay. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big warning for Sonia Kaspbrak antics! I based a lot of this chapter on 'Eddie's Bad Break' from the book, so if that was hard for you to read, I would approach this with caution.

On the morning of January 2nd, Eddie watched from his bedroom window as his aunt Margey’s silver Subaru pulled out of the driveway, and sighed with relief. For just a moment, he could pretend things were going back to normal, and as soon as his aunts were gone he could pull on his snow attire and decompress somewhere with Richie. But he doubted that would be happening anytime soon. 

Since the incident on Christmas, his mother had barely let him out of her sight. If he spent too long alone in his bedroom, she would appear at his door (which now had to stay open, as a rule) and ask him to come down for a round of scrabble, anxiety apparent in her tone. At the end of every meal, she asked him to sit and talk for awhile as the adults cleaned the kitchen (if he offered to help so the job would be done faster, he was shooed away) and every time he left a room, a kiss to his mother’s cheek was required.

Every time, Eddie did as he was told. 

Under no circumstances could he leave the house, it was always, “it’s too cold Eddie, you’ll get sick” or “don’t you want to spend as much time as possible with your aunties before they go home?” or “I need you around today, Eddie bear, I need you to keep me company”. So he stayed. 

He’d kiss her cheek and he’d let her win at scrabble— anything to increase the possibility that, soon, he could earn back her trust enough to give him back the tiniest pieces of independence he had before— but to put it simply, he was miserable. Because of everything, he’d realised that he resented his mother more than he had ever considered. Hated her, even. He was just so angry; angry at her and angry at the world and angry that he had to be Eddie Kaspbrak. Torn between wishing he had the freedom to pursue his passion and wishing he didn’t want that at all and just liked baseball instead, rage and misery fueled his every waking moment (or so it felt). 

And he loved his mother, he loved her as all children loved their parents, in a way that was more akin to worship than anything else. But he knew now that he hated her too. It was a terrifying thought for Eddie, who’d let this woman revolve her world around him and, in turn, had revolved his around her— but he was growing up, and he didn’t want to be tethered to her for the rest of his long life. But maybe he didn’t hate her. Maybe it was just the life she wanted him to live that he hated. Not her, just everything she represented. That didn’t make him feel much better.

He knew now, that if he didn’t do something, this would be his life forever. He didn’t want that, and if it made him selfish for wanting more, wanting a life without his mother breathing down his neck then fuck it. He was selfish. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he  _ needed  _ that scholarship. He needed it if he ever wanted to be a human being, instead of Sonia Kaspbrak’s puppet. 

So, that afternoon when his mother went up to her bedroom for a nap, Eddie crept down to the phone in the kitchen, praying he still remembered the phone number he had been given before winter break. 

On the third ring, he picked up. 

“Hello Mr Mellon, it’s Eddie.” Eddie said, voice as quiet as he could make it without whispering.

“Oh Eddie! It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you, how are you?”

“Well, um. Not so good, I guess. I’m grounded.” he laughed nervously. 

“Oh,” Mellon began, keeping his voice painfully neutral, “that’s unfortunate.” 

“Yeah. My mom— she found out. About the lessons and the scholarship.” Eddie fought to keep tears out of his eyes. He hadn’t cried about the situation yet, no, that would be giving his mother what she wanted. She wanted him vulnerable, so he refused to be. But talking to Mellon now… it was getting to him, to say the least.

For a long moment, Mellon was quiet, as if choosing his words carefully, and then, “Well, I suppose you want to quit, then?”

Years later, Eddie would realise that Mellon knew the answer all along, it was Eddie who, until then, hadn’t been a hundred percent convinced. 

“No sir. But I don’t know what to do.” his voice cracked with the last syllable, and tears were properly welling in his eyes now. He chastised himself for being such a pussy, and just hoped Mellon couldn’t tell.

“The audition for the scholarship is about a month away in New York,” Mellon reminded him, sending a pang of want through Eddie’s heart. “What you can do until then is to keep practising.”

Fat tears now rolled down Eddie’s cheeks. “No, you don’t understand,” he choked, “I  _ can’t _ . She won’t let me leave— I can’t see my friend, I can’t do  _ anything _ . I can’t practice, I just can’t.” 

“That’s just ridiculous, come on now,” he said, his voice still void of the compassion Eddie unknowingly sought, “is she letting you call me? No, but you’re doing it anyway. Wait for her to go to bed, then practise. Wait for her to be on the phone or watching something loud on T.V. . If you want it, Eddie, you’ll find a way.”

“How am I going to get to the audition?” he asked, voice tiny and pathetic.

“Don’t worry about that for now, I’ll take care of it, okay? Can you do that for me?” Now that Eddie was really sobbing hard, Mellon became vaguely sympathetic. Eddie figured he probably just wasn’t used to kids crying, and felt a little bad about losing it in front of him.

“I think so.”

“Good. take care, Eddie, I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Alright. Thank you, sir.” Eddie said, getting himself under control and putting on a brave voice. It didn’t matter that he didn’t feel it, he just had to convince himself he was. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The first day of the new school semester, Adrian Mellon called in sick. He had more important business to attend to. 

Around lunch time, when he was certain the Kaspbrak household would be empty bar the matriarch, he knocked on the front door. He knew she would be home— Sonia hadn’t worked a day in her life, relying on her husband to provide their income, then, after he had passed, lived on his life insurance money and savings. It was no secret that Adrian didn’t like her much, but getting to know her son in the way he had over the past few months spun a new light on the woman, and, if possible, he only disliked her more. 

The door opened a crack, and one beady eye narrowed at him through the doorway. It was also no secret that Sonia did not particularly like Adrian. Whenever there was gossip around town, Sonia knew about it, and Adrian had often been the topic of conversation. Many people assumed he was gay and a coke addict (only one of which was true), most of them not wanting him teaching their children. But lucky for him, he was damn good at his job, and none of the rumours had their intended effect. 

Too bewildered to turn him away, Sonia opened the front door. 

“Hello Mrs Kaspbrak, may I come in?” he asked politely, then, before she had the chance to refuse, he pushed past her and made his way into the living room. The house was dark, no light turned on and only the curtains in the kitchen were open. It seemed as if the furniture had been frozen in time, not a single piece made after 1955. Just being there sent a chill down his spine, and it was a no wonder Eddie was keen to leave. 

Sonia choked and spluttered as he sat down in the armchair that looked as if it should be full of bedbugs, but instead had a strong Febreze odour. 

“How dare you come into my house like this! I should call the police right away— I should have the moment I found out you’ve been consorting with my son, so you’re lucky I haven’t. I’m calling 911 right now unless you get out of my house!” 

Adrian stayed put, crossing one leg over the other and sporting a smug smile. Sonia also showed no signs of going anywhere, and the phone was in the kitchen. 

Calmly, Adrian said, “I would never dream of hurting your son, ma’am, but I’m glad you brought him up, because we need to have a little talk about him, I think.”

Sonia looked simply horrified. The indignation of a man she despised taking over her armchair rendered her silent. 

“The thing is,” he started, trying not to feel too giddy about what he was about to say (and failing), “Eddie doesn’t really have asthma, does he Mrs Kaspbrak?”

For a second, it looked as if Sonia may have a heart attack. Her face glowed a deep crimson and her mouth went slack. She said nothing. Adrian had well and truly gotten her attention. 

“You see, I  _ do  _ have asthma, so I know how it works, and I’m almost certain I’ve figured it out.” 

Sonia sat down— or more accurately, dropped down— onto the couch adjacent to the armchair.

“You wanna know how I know?” he continued. “I know because his asthma attacks only occur when he’s nervous or overwhelmed— it’s an emotional response. It’s never random, and never when he’s physically exerting himself, which he almost always is in my classes. And his inhaler? I’ve seen it, and I’m certain it’s not a standard ventolin puffer. HydroOx, that’s what it’s called, right?”

She opened her mouth as if to defend herself, but Adrian just spoke louder and faster. She’d get her chance, but right now it was his turn.

“And do you wanna know why I’m so convinced you’ve been lying to him, beyond speculation?” he grinned a cunning, shark-like grin, “because you’re a psychotic bitch, more preoccupied with controlling your kid than looking out for him. So next time you want to accuse me of hurting a child, I think you should take a good, long look in the mirror, hon.”

With that, Sonia found her voice again. She began to spit incoherent indignations, sounding like the transmission from her brain to her mouth was full of fuzzy static. “How could— don’t you dare— ridiculous claims! I’m calling the police right now— insane. You’re insane! Get out of my house!”

As cool and collected as ever, Adrian leaned further back into the chair. “Here’s how this is going to work. Either you can call the cops— and by the time they get here I’ll be gone, anyway— and next time I see Eddie at school I’ll tell him the truth about everything, about his medicine and about how fucking sick in the head his mommy is.” the colour in Sonia’s face flushed down to her thick neck, and her hands curled into fists. “Or you can work with me, and actually do something helpful for him, for once in his life. You can let me take him to an audition for a private school in New York City that teaches ballet, and if he gets in you won’t have to pay tuition anyway. If you let me take him, give him a chance to try for something he really wants, then I promise not to tell him anything.”

Adrian was almost certain she’d begin cussing him out again, but while her glare was murderous, her voice came out quiet and defeated. “When would the audition be and how long would he be gone?”

“It’s on the 12th of February, in about a month, and he’d be gone for two days, give or take.”

“Who would be paying for this trip?”

“Me.” he said. “I have plenty enough savings, plus dual income and no kids so. It’ll be covered.”

She watched him suspiciously for a moment, as if he was out to shout, ‘Ha! Gotcha!’ then steal a couple hundred bucks from her wallet. 

“And why would you be willing to do that?”

“Because I care about Eddie, and I think he deserves a shot at this.” he said simply. “Plus, if he gets in, it’ll be real good for my status as a ballet teacher.”

Sonia seemed convinced enough, and, as she really had no other option, said, “alright then. He can go. But just know that I don’t like you very much at all, Mr Mellon, and if anything happens to my boy I’ll sue you for everything you’ve got. I know lawyers, you know, some of my best friends are lawyers.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s true.” Adrian stood up and, with a little more spring in his step than usual, made his way to the front door. Shooting a wink her way, he said, “we’ll be in touch.” and closed the front door behind him. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The night Eddie returned home from New York, Richie couldn’t sleep. For hours he’d laid in his bed staring up at the glow-in-the-dark galaxy stickers spattered across his ceiling, trying to fall asleep as quickly as possible so it would be tomorrow already, and he could see Eddie again. He’d only been gone for three days, but already Richie was bored stiff. Not that it had been any different to regular life recently; since school had gone back, Mrs Kaspbrak had Eddie on an even tighter leash than usual, picking him up from school so he couldn’t stay late and keeping him home on weekends. Even Richie’s mother, a usually mild-mannered woman who now had to put up with his bored moping, began to resent Sonia for it. 

But, even in his isolation, Richie knew Eddie had been practising almost non-stop. Every moment he could get away from his mother he practised, and perfecting his routine was all he talked about. If he were older and wiser, Richie may have worried about how obsessed with it he had become, but to Richie, this dedication was expected when it came to his best friend. The thing about Eddie was, when his mind was set on doing something, he wouldn’t stop until he’d done it. Richie admired that. 

He also knew that this obsession with succeeding was mostly due to his fear of failing. One lunchtime, when the winter sun came out and cast a cool glow over the frosty earth and the pair could sit together in the grass as they ate (granted they had their coats and hats on), Eddie confessed how much it was really getting to him. 

He’d told Richie, barely a whisper, that if he didn’t get in, he wasn’t sure what he would do. If he didn’t have this way out of Derry and away from his mother, he probably wouldn’t see the sun until he was old enough to leave for college, and as a thirteen year old, college still felt like a million years away. 

“What if I have an asthma attack and choke? Or I just forget the routine?” then, in a smaller voice, added, “or what if they just don’t think I’m good enough?” 

Richie didn’t think it was possible for anyone to not recognise Eddie’s brilliance, but then again, he was biased. Instead of reassuring Eddie, he said, “if you don’t get in, we’ll just run away and go to New York by ourselves.”

When Eddie laughed, Richie quickly shrugged it off as if he had been joking, shooting him a dopey grin and going back to his sandwich. But it wasn’t a joke. He would have done anything if it meant being with Eddie, and keeping him smiling. 

In an attempt to finally fall asleep, he clamped his eyes tightly shut and pictured Eddie in the big city. It suited him, Richie thought, all the loud noises and tall buildings and general vastness that was totally alien to them growing up in Derry, where everyone knew each other and a building more than four stories high caused all kinds of controversy. Eddie belonged there, in a twenty story apartment building, a place where he could be the person he wanted to be without everyone around him trying to pull him back down to the ground level where they were. He was bigger than that, better than that. 

But that didn’t stop it from hurting. Richie realised, then, that he would be losing Eddie for good. 

He’d always thought they would be as inseparable as they were as children for the rest of their lives. They’d go to college together somewhere far from home and be roommates, then move into a huge house and hang out until they were old and wrinkly. Every step towards growing up, they’d take together. But this step, Eddie was taking alone. It hit Richie that he needed Eddie a lot more than Eddie needed him. 

Tears began to slip down his cheeks and dampen his pillow case, and he felt a sadness he had never felt before, he felt it deep within his gut and it gnawed at his insides. It was the kind of sadness he would learn to get used to, a sadness surrounding growing up that surely everyone felt at some point in their life. But for now it was unbearable. He curled in on himself and cried quietly, mourning his childhood and subconsciously planning out what his life would be like, now that every plan he’d ever made was being flushed down the toilet. 

Part of him felt guilty for being so sad, because Eddie wanted— hell,  _ needed _ — this so badly, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe it was selfish of him to want to keep Eddie all to himself, to still be the one thing that could make him smile when he had a particularly bad run-in with his mother, but without Eddie, who did he have?    
  


A tap at his window pulled Richie out of his misery, and, as the tapping came again, he wiped his tears away and sucked in a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself down before grabbing his glasses off the bedside table and going to see what was happening.

In his front lawn, Eddie stood wearing a thick jacket and woolen gloves, throwing pebbles from the driveway at Richie’s bedroom window. His cheeks were rosy, and as he heard the window opening, he grinned, pretending to throw another pebble right at Richie’s head. Richie stood there, dumbfounded, looking down at Eddie and wondering how he was ever going to deal with not having him around. After all, loving someone from afar was different when they were still right next to you. 

He left his bedroom and tiptoed down the stairs to the front door. As he opened the door, Eddie threw his arms around his neck, and drew him into a crushing hug. Richie froze— like most teenage boys, physical affection was not something that happened often between them— but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, just tightened his grip around his neck, either ignoring or not noticing the gooseflesh that grew there. He smelled like cheap, hotel soap and something faintly metallic (from being on the train all day, probably) but the usually overpowering perfume of whatever fabric softener Mrs Kaspbrak used was still present, and more than anything else he still smelled like Eddie. 

In the few seconds this was happening, all Richie could think to say was, “Mom’s asleep and Dad will be home soon, so you gotta be quiet.” Eddie just rolled his eyes, and mouthed,  _ obviously _ .

As quietly as possible, they made their way into Richie’s bedroom, Richie flopping down onto the bed as Eddie carefully shut the door behind him, standing his suitcase up next to it and began to pace, clearly unable to contain his excitement.

“Mr Mellon was going to drive me home from the train station, but I just have to tell you everything because, shit Richie, it was awesome! I can’t stay long, ‘cause Mom will have a bird— Mellon said I could only come here if I promised to get home to her at some point tonight, or he’ll probably have the cops at his doorstep looking for me— but I couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow.” 

Richie thought that if he opened his mouth, he might start crying again. It was like there was a room inside his head that he shoved his feelings inside of, but with the amount of tears he’d shed recently and the general sappiness of his emotions, the door keeping these feelings inside had begun to rot away, and he could no longer keep himself together by making a dumb joke. It would be so easy, usually, to wink at Eddie and say something about his mother, and pretend he didn’t feel it deep within his gut when Eddie told him he couldn’t wait to see him. Tonight, he said nothing, just watched as Eddie paced around his messy room, picking up things from the floor to fiddle with, then throw away in disgust. 

“The city was so… it was just so big. I’ve never seen that many people before— it was just so cool. We saw the building where they make SNL and the one where they make MAD magazine; I wished I had brought a camera because I think you would have loved that stuff. I really just wished you could have come too.” He stopped moving and looked at Richie to see if he was still paying attention. 

If nothing else, Richie was a master of going through the motions. “Yeah, I’m sure you loved it there— New Yorkers are meant to be real uptight, right? Right up your alley, Eds. Did you piss off Wall St schmucks by walking too slow?”

Eddie scoffed, but Richie could see in his face he was glad for the conversation to be less one-sided. “No, I walked perfectly fast enough.”

Putting on his best New Yorker accent (which was one of his best impressions, but still sounded like himself, just slightly constipated) he said, “move it or lose it, Eddie Spaghetti! Pump those lil legs! Eh, I’m walkin’ ‘ere!”

Shifting a pile of dirty clothes out of the way, Eddie sat down on the floor cross-legged. “That was really terrible, Rich. No one actually talks like that, you know. Everyone’s like, normal.” 

“Hm,” Richie pretended to mull it over, “maybe you were just hanging out with the wrong people.”

Eddie shrugged. “Well, the other kids at the audition were cool, I guess, I didn’t really talk to anyone much.”

And there it was,  _ the audition _ . Richie had almost forgotten about it, despite it being the reason for him leaving in the first place. Part of him— the selfish, kiddy part— didn’t want to know. He just wanted things to be normal between them for a little while longer, without the reminder it was all about to be taken away from him. 

Finally, he caved. “How was the audition, by the way?”

“Oh,” Eddie looked away shyly. “It was good, I think. I don’t know. I didn’t choke, or need to use my inhaler or anything, so that’s a plus. Mr Mellon said I did good but,” he shrugged, “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“You’ll get in.” Richie muttered with what he hoped was the right amount of conviction and sincerity. “You’re amazing, Eds, they’ll see that.”

Instead of replying or looking up to see the honesty in Richie’s eyes, Eddie stood up again and began absent-mindedly cleaning Richie’s room. To Maggie Tozier’s delight, he did this rather often— pulling faces and lecturing Richie on how gross it was to have dirty laundry festering on the carpet, and organising the random pieces of paper strewn across the room in a way that Richie could (hopefully) find everything he needed— and it was practically the only time the room was tidied. 

Richie thought, he’ll probably only do this another handful of times before he’s gone, and felt another pang of sadness. Upset about having to clean his own room, and feeling like he should be treasuring the moment purely because Eddie was there— how pathetic was that? But really, it was just another reminder that his whole world was about to be flipped on its head.    
  


“Dad will probably be home in a minute, maybe you should get out of here.” he said, feeling his throat constrict and wanting nothing more than to be alone again and have a good, long cry.

“Yeah, okay. Sorry for dropping in so late.” Eddie picked up his suitcase from where it sat by the door. He still avoided Richie’s eyes. 

“You sure you’ll be okay to get home with that thing?”

“I think so. I’ll see you later, Rich.” 

And with that, he left. 

  
  


* * *

The weeks spent waiting for his acceptance letter to come were some of the longest of Eddie’s life. To put it simply, he was lonely. Things hadn’t changed since the audition; he was still essentially being kept prisoner in his own home, kept from what little social life he already had with only his mother to keep him company. And even her presence felt heavy, now, like he couldn’t breathe around her, and part of him wished things could go back to normal so he could just have a friend in her again. While, yes, he’d always felt smothered by her, before this, he used to be able to convince himself it was out of love and caring— her love may have felt suffocating, but he didn’t mind being suffocated with affection. But if he’d learned anything from the past few months, it was that it was less about love and more about control. 

Things couldn’t go back to normal.

With all the time he now had to be alone with his thoughts, he’d somewhat fixated on what would happen when he  _ did  _ get the letter. It was safe to say if he got in, she’d flip. She’d probably cry and moan and cling to him and tell him he was breaking her heart— she’d be bringing out the big guns, but it would be nothing different from how she reacted to anything else Eddie did that she didn’t agree with. 

What really consumed his thoughts was what would happen if he didn’t get in. It was almost unthinkable. Because if he failed at this, he would be failing at the only thing he had ever really tried for. The only thing he’d ever really let himself want. 

He remembered back to a few years ago, when he was eight. It had been his dream, then, to build a soapbox racer and race it at the tournament up in Bangor. Eddie had always loved cars, and was particularly good at making things (he’d always been good at knowing exactly what was wrong with a bike and how to fix it, and his room had been full of model airplanes for as long as he’d been able to read instructions) so he’d been especially fascinated to see an ad for the competition on TV. For months all he talked about was the car he was going to make, and how fast it would go and how cool he would look racing it. He’d even gone as far as to start collecting materials from the dump to build his car before his mother had her say.

Then, everyday became, “It’s too dangerous, Eddie bear, do you know how many kids get hurt in races like these?” and “your bones are fragile, sweetie, if your car crashes you’ll break your legs and maybe you won’t be able to walk again.” and “you can’t build that yourself, you might scratch yourself on one of those dirty nails and get tetanus, do you know what happens when people get tetanus?”

So Eddie gave up, and eventually he found new hobbies and interests, and the soapbox racer slipped his mind.

But he remembered it now. He remembered how much he wanted it, how much he wanted to make something with his own hands and have it really work, to feel the wind slap against his face as he rocketed down the hill in something _ he made _ . He had let it go then, but he wouldn’t now. If he got in, which he prayed to God every night he would despite not believing much, his mother would not be able to convince him otherwise. He would go to New York, and nothing could stop him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Every morning, Eddie woke up early enough to watch the postman deliver the mail. This was a decision made out of necessity. Because if he didn’t, and his letter came, he was almost certain his mother would hide it from him. At first she had sat with him at the kitchen table facing the window looking out on the street, waiting for the mail to come, and watched him like a hawk. “Anything for you today, sweetie?” she would ask as he sifted through the various bills and magazines, before grumbling a, “not today.” in response, and handing it over. When she realised how strong his conviction was, she gave up and allowed an extra half hour of sleep into her morning routine.

This particular morning had been cold, and Eddie had been reluctant to get himself out of bed, but it had been three weeks since the audition and the letter was due any day now. He dragged himself into the kitchen, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders as he sat down. 

When the postman did come, Eddie felt something deep inside his chest that may have been his asthma acting up, but somehow he doubted that. It just felt different than any other day, and he was pretty sure he knew why. 

Calmly standing from his seat, as if excitement would jinx it and the letter wouldn’t be there at all, he made his way outside and to the mailbox. Inside was the water bill. And a Women's Weekly magazine. And a letter from the New York Academy of Ballet. 

There, in that envelope clasped between his cold fingertips was his entire future. It would change his life forever, and determine the kind of person he would become. The fate of the universe (Eddie Kaspbrak’s universe, at least) rested upon the contents of that letter. 

His throat began to close to the size of a pinhole and his chest contracted. The letter would have to wait. 

Eddie not so elegantly raced back into his bedroom and triggered the inhaler down his throat. He breathed the cool, soothing mist and squeezed his eyes shut. 

It was time to open the envelope. 

In movies, the main character always called their mom and dad into the room while they opened their college acceptance letter. This wasn’t exactly the same situation, but Eddie did wish he had someone to stand behind him and clasp his shoulder, just a little reassurance that everything was going to be okay. 

He imagined his father, who he hadn’t thought about in a long while, sitting down on the bed next to him. 

“It doesn’t matter, Ed, whatever it says in that letter, your Ma and I will still love you the same. Good luck, kid.”

Except it did matter. It mattered more than anything. 

Tears stung behind his eyes and he blinked them away, as well as Frank Kaspbrak’s ghost. Carefully, so as not to rip what was inside, he tore the envelope open. 

**_3/4/1989_ **

**_To Edward Kaspbrak_ **

**_37 Witcham St_ **

**_Derry, Maine 04402_ **

**_Master Kaspbrak,_ **

**_Congratulations on a job well done. You have been admitted to the New York Academy of Ballet. On behalf of the staff and students, we wish you a warm welcome. Ambition, hard-working and a passion for dance are values we hold at the heart of our academy, and are pleased to say you demonstrated as such during your audition. You can be proud to have joined a select group of students._ **

**_In regards to The Robert Gray Scholarship, we would also like to inform you that through your hard work and determination you have proven to be a student that we wish to recognize and encourage to continue your educational effort._ **

****

**_This scholarship will be recognised by the academy, indicating that it can be used for tuition, fees, or books, and should be treated as a scholarship of additional funds to you._ **

**_Attached in this letter are forms to be signed and sent back to the New York Academy of Ballet in acceptance of your place at the school and of the scholarship._ **

He did it. He really, really did it. 

* * *

Eddie wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the end of his bed clutching the letter before,  _ I have to tell Mom now,  _ rang through his head. 

If he listened carefully, he could hear her plodding around the kitchen, probably having just woken up. The house was quiet and peaceful in a way most houses only were in the early mornings, but that definitely wouldn’t last, not when he handed the application forms to her. Eddie considered waiting, showing her later today or later this week or later this month... but quickly realised that would probably just make her inevitable outburst even worse. 

He knew it would be bad regardless, but recently Eddie had discovered a strange kind of power he hadn’t realised he possessed. He’d found that he  _ could  _ stand up to her, in little ways, and nothing terrible happened. He could go and sit in his bedroom when she asked him to watch television with her, and the world didn’t stop spinning. He could refuse to kiss her cheek before leaving for school in the mornings, and the ground didn’t open up, swallowing him whole. He could eat a packet of chips at lunch that Richie snuck him, and he could sneak out of his bedroom on the weekend so they could dick around with firecrackers at the dump, as long as it didn’t happen too often. 

It upset her immensely for her precious son to talk back to her, but there was something more than that, Eddie thought. Something underneath the tears that was more like fear than anything else. But he refused to acknowledge that. He wouldn’t think about what kind of monster he would have to be to have his own mother scared of him, it would just be too much. The guilt and shame he felt about hurting her, which he knew he was doing, he buried underneath rage. It was easier to be angry at her, to wallow in the injustice, than it was to reflect on his own behaviour. 

So, he knew he would be able to make her let him go. He didn’t care what he had to do and he didn’t care if it made him a bad person, he would do what he needed to. 

Instead of letting himself overthink it, which he was as prone to do as he was to asthma attacks, he stood up and marched into the kitchen.

Eddie stood in the doorway like a ghost as his mother, dressed in a pink, fluffy robe with her hair unbrushed, prepared a bowl of cereal he knew was for him. He just stood there, holding onto the letter as if it were some kind of sacred script, waiting for her to notice him. 

When he’d been standing there for a minute or so and she still hadn’t realised, just continued to mill around getting breakfast ready, he cleared his throat and said with as much conviction as he could muster, “Mama? I got the letter from New York. I got in. I’m going. I’m going to New York.” 

She froze, and said nothing, her back still turned to him. 

After what felt like an eternity, she spoke up. “So that’s it, then? You’re just going to abandon me after everything I’ve done for you?” Her voice was wet, and thick with tears. 

Eddie tried his hardest to ignore it, and reminded himself that her crocodile tears were just that. Fake. Guilt crept up inside him, but he shoved it back down again. 

“I just need you to help me fill out the application form, I need your signature and stuff like that.”

She let out a great, honking sob. “Oh, Eddie, you can’t go and leave me like that! All I’ve ever done is protect you and look after you and you want to go and run off to New York?” she turned to face him, and Eddie found he couldn’t look her in the eyes even if he wanted to. Despite her desperation, his mother seemed to sense this and kept pressing. “That teacher of yours is tricking you, Eddie bear, he’s turning you against me and you shouldn’t listen to him!”

“No he’s not, Ma.” 

More than anything, Eddie was just tired. He was tired of fighting, both with his mother and with himself. A tiny part of him screamed to just shut up. To just close his mouth and eat the bran cereal she put out for him and throw the letter in the trash because it was just too much, and he didn’t think he could bear being the cause of her anguish any longer. 

“He is! He  _ is  _ because you’re fragile, and he knows you’ll listen to him. I should have known raising you without your father would make you this way.” she sat down at the kitchen table facing him and took out her handkerchief, blowing her nose noisily. “Everyone will think you’re a queer, sweetie. Can you think of what that will be like for me? Having to tell everyone you’ve run off to go to a  _ ballet  _ school?” 

All of a sudden, Eddie was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to use his inhaler. But leaving the room to go get it now… well, he didn’t need her to think he was dropping the subject, and he definitely didn’t need to fuel another ‘your lungs can’t handle ballet’ argument. 

“They’re going to laugh at me,” she continued, “they’re going to think I’m a rotten mother, do you want them to think that?”

_ I don’t care what the Derry moms think, _ he thought, _ they’d be right, anyway. _ He didn’t vocalise this, instead taking a seat across the table from her. 

“I’ve done the best I could on my own, Eddie, I did all I could to protect you and look after you. Isn’t that enough?”

Her cheeks red and splotchy while remnants of yesterday’s mascara stained her under-eyes, it was obvious she really had no shame. Her chest heaved with sobs as she awaited Eddie’s reply. 

Eddie sighed. “I love you, Ma, but I think you’re making yourself cry.”

It seemed to him that his mother also could not meet his eyes. Whether it was frustration with him for not giving up already or the fear Eddie suspected she felt towards him when he spoke out against her, she now had nothing to say. She just kept crying.

Eddie knew he couldn’t win this, she wouldn’t stop. So, before he could think it through properly, he muttered, “Please help me fill out the forms _. Please _ , because— I’m going, Ma. If you don’t help me, someone else will. I can find all the information I need, I’ll even forge your signature if I have to. So you can help me, and I’ll come home every holiday, every weekend if I’m allowed to. If you don’t help me, Ma, I… I won’t ever talk to you again.”

She made a snotty, ugly noise which was probably supposed to resemble a scoff. It sounded more like something from a rabid animal. “You won’t do that,” she said. “You need me to look after you, Eddie bear, and that’s alright because I  _ want  _ to look after you. You’re my son and it’s my job to do that. It’s Mommy’s job to look after you, please let me do that.” 

Eddie turned away and breathed deeply for a moment, fearing he was also about to start bawling. At this point she was practically begging him to stay, and every moment he became less convinced her tears were a tactic. There he was, sitting across the breakfast table from his weeping mother, and he had the nerve to turn away. Maybe he really had changed for the worse, and maybe being the person he wanted to be wasn’t worth losing the person he used to be. 

“I don’t need you,” he choked out, more to convince himself than to convince his mother, “I can look after myself.”

“Where would you go? When you’re not at school, where would you go?”

He thought for a minute, really mulling the question over. “I could stay with Aunt Delores or Aunt Margey,” he said, then, after considering that he would rather be homeless than live with either of them, added, “or I could stay at Richie’s house, his parents like me a lot.” 

Seeing his mother turn up her nose at the mention of Richie’s family (it was of her opinion that, because both of his parents worked and they were still broke, the house must be filthy. She also didn’t care for Maggie, for reasons that were definitely not at all related to her being Jewish), Eddie could tell he was getting through to her. 

For good measure, he added, “I could even go to Mr Mellon. I know he’d let me stay with him because he hates you and thinks I’m better off without you.”

“Oh, Eddie!” she wailed, “you’re hurting me so bad! You’re breaking my  _ heart _ , baby!”

“Fill out the application. Nothing has to change.” Eddie hoped his desperation for this all to end couldn’t be heard in his voice. 

Something must have clicked in his mother’s mind, because all of a sudden she stopped weeping, and instead looked up at him with fury in her gaze. 

“This has all corrupted you! You used to be such a sweet little boy, and now all you want is to hurt your mother. I don’t know who you are anymore.” she sighed, and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. “I want my Eddie bear back, that’s all.”

And that was the fundamental difference between them, wasn’t it. She didn’t want a growing human person, she wanted a child. She wanted Eddie to stay eight years old for the rest of his life, and he just couldn’t give that to her, as much as he might have wanted to. It hit Eddie, then, that she didn’t really love him. She loved a version of him that she had created in her mind and projected onto him since he was a baby, but he was getting older now and, much like the handmade clothing she forced him into as a child, that projection didn’t fit anymore. 

He shoved the application forms into her hands, and allowed his expression to soften. “Please, Mommy. Help me, please.”

Eddie half expected her to toss them away and carry on, but instead she began to read over the fine print, sniffling every now and then but saying nothing. 

“You’ll spend one week at that school and want to come home.” she said reluctantly, but kept reading over the forms. 

Breakfast forgotten, Eddie disappeared back into his bedroom and let the tears he had been holding back fall freely, until it was time to leave for school. 

Red-nosed and already exhausted, he slung his backpack over his shoulders and opened the front door. Like every other day, his mother asked for a kiss before he could leave. Without reluctance, Eddie kissed her, and let her hug him so tightly, he felt his ribs might collapse in on themselves. _ Be gentle with me, _ he thought,  _ my chest is too fragile _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated, thank you for the reception to the first chapter <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long but here's the last chapter!

Winter turned to spring and time blurred together in Eddie’s mind. Nothing much changed; he went to school, he practised, he went home to his mother, who, if possible, had become even more suffocating. Or maybe she hadn’t, maybe now he just knew what it was like to breathe air she hadn’t blown into his lungs. Either way, the excitement he felt towards leaving seemed to grow every day. 

Summer had always been Eddie’s favourite time of year—obviously because school let out— but there was something about the thick, warm air and days where it felt like the sun would never set, that put his mind at ease. For him, summer was associated with Richie; not only because they were practically inseparable, but also the carefree nature of the season just reminded him of the other boy. 

Summer meant no rules (well,  _ less  _ rules), no school and Richie. But this summer was different. This summer Eddie’s time was neatly divided between practise with Mellon, captivity with his mother and, if he was lucky, a few hours a day to hang out with Richie.  _ This is what it’s like to be an adult, _ Eddie thought,  _ not having the time to do the things you want to do, and even when you get to do them, it doesn’t feel as good as it did when you were a kid _ . To him, the magic of summer was dead. And that was a sad thought for the boy. 

Practice was rewarding, but difficult, and Mellon worked him twice as hard as he had before, making absolutely sure he thought Eddie was ready for the academy. Sometimes, it seemed to Eddie that Mellon was sad about him leaving, and every now and then there was a look in his eyes that Eddie found peculiar, one that was for grown-ups to understand, not kids. His mother, however, was sad all the time. Being with her just made him feel like rot, no matter how much he wished he could cherish his last few months at home. Richie was sad too, Eddie could tell in the way he looked at him sometimes, like he was memorising his face, getting ready to not see it for a very long time. But Richie didn’t let his sadness get in the way of a good time, and Eddie was very thankful for that. 

One day, miraculously, Eddie had nothing to do. When he had nothing to do, he always found Richie. 

It was one of those days that was so hot you didn’t feel like doing much of anything except complain about how hot it was. There was a place near where the Barrens started, where the greenery was light but still present enough that it felt secluded, that the river was shallow enough to swim in but not so shallow that you couldn’t get your head underwater if you wanted to. Richie loved that spot because he thought it was good for skipping stones (despite the fact that he couldn’t skip stones for shit), so they got on their bikes and went.

After a few minutes of them hopelessly trying to skip stones with the few not-so-flat rocks surrounding the riverbed (“this sucks, you’re full of shit, Richie.” “all the better to smell  _ you  _ with, my dear.” “that doesn’t even make sense, dipshit.”), Richie decided he wanted to go swimming. It didn’t seem to bother him that he didn’t have his swim trunks— he just stripped off his worn cotton t-shirt and jean-shorts and placed his glasses carefully on top of the pile of clothing, dipping into the water in his underwear. 

  
Eddie stripped down too, but at the shore, he hesitated. 

“You coming in or not?” Richie shouted to Eddie when the water was up to his waist. 

At first, Eddie said nothing. Then, sheepishly he said, “I’m pretty sure the whole sewerage system opens into here.” He wasn't usually embarrassed about being cautious, but he’d come to realise the voice in his head that spoke these concerns was his mother’s, not his own. It should have been easy to ignore them now that he knew they weren’t  _ his  _ thoughts, but life didn’t work out that way.

“What the fuck do you know about sewerage?” Richie asked, now deep enough to submerge his whole body. He sunk down then bobbed back up, his hair now wet and plastered to his forehead. 

When Eddie again did not reply, Richie said, “Alright, watch this,” and proceeded to swallow a mouthful of river water. “See? I’m fine.”

“Jesus, that’s fucking disguisting!” Eddie shrieked, but it had its intended effect. He shut the voice in his head out, and waded out to where Richie was, just to shove him underwater and pretend to drown him. 

There was something about Richie that made Eddie feel brave. He knew he  _ was  _ brave, but rarely did he  _ feel  _ it. He knew that whatever happened, Richie would always wait for him. He would never force Eddie’s hand, just wait for him to make the decision himself. And he never doubted Eddie, not for one second, and Eddie knew this. He always thought Eddie was brave, even when Eddie himself didn’t think so. Sometimes the way Richie looked at him made him feel like the strongest man in the universe, and it made his stomach feel funny until he stopped himself from thinking about it. 

He dragged Richie’s head out of the water and grinned at him. 

For a while they just screwed around in the water, until Richie felt something touch his foot. “Fuck me, what the fuck was that? Something fucking ran over my foot, Eds, what the fuck!” 

Being as blind as he was, Richie really had no idea what had touched him, and his screams were as much excited as they were scared. 

“Shut up, will you? I’ll look.” With only a tiny twinge of anxiety about sewer water and pinkeye, Eddie ducked underwater and opened his eyes, looking around at the riverbed beneath Richie’s feet.  _ I wish he would stop hopping about like a moron so I could see better, _ he thought, before spotting something that looked a little like a rock, but not. 

“There, see? Just a turtle.” he said, cradling the little thing in the palm of his hand and reaching out so Richie could see. “You can stop being so dramatic, now.”

“Are you kidding me?” he exclaimed. “No way can I stop being dramatic— holy shit! This is so cool! We have to name him, I say we call him Obi Wan because turtles are all wise and shit, or Marty, maybe, ‘cause Marty McFly is cool… can we get out? I want to get my glasses to see him properly and right now even your pretty face is just a blur.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and made his way back to shore with Obi Wan or Marty or whatever name Richie would come up with next in his hand.

Sitting next to their clothes on the shore, Richie asked to hold the turtle.

“Only if you promise to be careful,” Eddie said.

“What the fuck does that mean? Of course I’m gonna be careful— he’s my new best friend, I like him more than you, now, I’m not gonna crush him with my bare hands or anything.”

He handed the turtle over and watched Richie watch the creature. He stared at it with such amazement, it made Eddie feel old. Richie still saw the world like a kid, and hopefully he would for a couple more years, because if there was anything Eddie had learned recently it was that growing up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. In that moment, Eddie felt very, very far away from him. But even though he felt like crying, he smiled. He loved Richie. He felt it very strongly, then. 

He thought of the way Richie had looked at him all summer. Like he was burning the image of Eddie’s face into his mind, almost as if he was afraid of forgetting what it looked like. Eddie didn’t want to forget either. He’d never have a friend like Richie ever again, he thought. Richie was special. He didn’t want to forget. So, he decided he would do the same thing. He started looking,  _ really  _ looking. 

Water droplets mingled with the freckles dusting Richie bare, pale shoulders that never seemed to get darker despite him being outside for most of the daylight hours. His hair, always unruly, curled at the base of his neck while it dried because he needed a haircut, but his mom hadn’t had time to do it lately. His glasses made his eyes huge and wonderful and Eddie thought he could see everything that was good about the world inside of them. 

_ This is my favourite person in the whole world, _ he thought to himself,  _ I wish I could spend the rest of my life just hanging out with him _ . The only bad thing about leaving Derry, he realised, would be leaving Richie behind. 

Richie noticed him staring, and Eddie looked away, ducking his head so he couldn’t see the colour rising in his cheeks. 

“I wish I could keep him— his name’s Luke now, by the way, I’ve decided.” Richie sighed, breaking the silence. He stroked Luke’s shell gently. Eddie had never seen Richie hold something so gently.

“Well, you can’t. He’ll miss the river, I think.”

“Man, fuck the river! I can build an enclosure or something, help me do it this afternoon, I’m not doing anything.” 

Eddie chuckled at his enthusiasm, but shook his head. “Nah, he loves the river. Even though you love him, you have to put him back. Otherwise… he’ll be sad. It’ll hurt him.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Richie agreed, a little sadly. “I just wanna hold onto him for a little bit longer, though.” 

Eventually, they got bored and said their goodbyes to Luke as he swam away into the river. 

Eddie did go back to Richie’s house, but they didn’t build an enclosure. His dad was actually home when they got there— a rare occasion that took both boys by surprise— and as the sun went down, he grilled some hamburgers on the barbeque, which they ate sitting in the small patch of grass that was the Tozier’s backyard, while Richie’s dad sat on the porch, smiling at them. 

Eddie would remember that day for a very long time afterwards. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the turtle, or the burgers and fresh summer air, or, maybe, it was the overwhelming amount of love he had felt, both loving and being loved. He didn’t think he’d ever felt that way since. 

* * *

The day Eddie was set to leave for New York, Adrian had agreed to drive him to the train station. That was how he wanted to go: by train and by himself. Neither of them said it, but they both knew that any other way, any way including his mother, would have probably led to him staying in Derry. Jesus, that kid was fucking tough. He’d miss him, Adrian thought oddly. He’d miss that kid. He reminded him of himself, in a way, and he was really just proud of everything he’d help Eddie achieve. Now that he was leaving this shithole town, he was going to go far in life. Adrian knew that for certain. 

It didn’t surprise him at all that he had to wait almost an hour in the car outside of the Kaspbrak household, waiting to pick Eddie up. He would probably arise suspicion, soon, sitting in his parked car with sunglasses on out the front of a students house, but then, people were always talking. He almost considered getting out and going to the front door, just to see what was going on in there. Honestly, he was getting a little scared for Eddie. But he knew his presence would likely make things much worse. 

After what felt like an eternity, Eddie emerged from the house lugging a suitcase almost as big as him and with Sonia weeping at his heels. Adrian fought to avoid rolling his eyes. He stepped out of the car to greet the pair and help Eddie with his things.

“Don’t go, Eddie bear, let me drive you at least! Let me go with you on the train, you shouldn’t be going alone! You need someone to help you get settled in sweetie, and you could get hurt, or kidnapped, and I wouldn’t even know!” she babbled, tears pouring down her cheeks in an attempt to get Eddie to turn around and look at her. He didn’t. He looked far more grown up, then, than he had any right to. 

Silently, Adrian took the suitcase from Eddie and slid it into the trunk. “Ready to go?” he asked gently. 

Eddie nodded. He turned and faced his mother, who clearly was not above grovelling to get him to stay, and tugged her down by the collar to kiss her cheek. 

“Bye, Ma. I’ll call as soon as I get off the train, and again when I get to the academy.”

Adrian clapped a hand over his shoulder reassuringly and somewhat fatherly. Sonia shot him a death glare to end all death glares as he got back into the car. 

The first few minutes of the journey were silent. Eddie looked as if he wanted to cry, but instead stared stoically out the window. Adrian wanted to tell him it was alright for him to cry, it would be understandable, he didn’t have to be strong right now. He didn’t. He wanted to tell Eddie that his asthma medicine was fake, and he didn’t need it. But he kept his mouth shut. There would be time for Eddie to find out, but he had enough to deal with right now. Hell, maybe he’d even figure it out on his own, he was bright enough.

Once they had driven a few blocks, Eddie broke the silence. 

“Can we stop by Richie’s house, please? I haven’t said goodbye yet. Not properly, anyway.”

“Sure,” Adrian replied, racking his brain for the directions to the Tozier household, where he’d dropped Eddie after the audition. 

He knew how much Eddie cared for Richie, whether he’d said it aloud or not— it was obvious, with the way they were glued at the hip, probably everyone who’d ever met the boys could tell— and it made him wonder just how much like himself Eddie was. But that didn’t matter, not really. 

He pulled up out the front of Richie’s house and parked the car. “Take as long as you want, the train doesn’t leave for another couple of hours.”

Eddie nodded. Something came over Adrian, then, and he started to speak before Eddie had the chance to get out of the car. 

“Hey, Eddie… I’m proud of you. I don’t know if anyone’s said it to you yet, but I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve done some great work and made some great progress… you’re gonna do great things at that school, I know it.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, just nodded again, but Adrian could tell there was a fresh layer of tears in the boy’s eyes that he was holding back. Eddie got out of the car, and Adrian waited. 

* * *

There was a knock on Richie’s bedroom door. Before he could respond, his mother entered his room. 

“Eddie’s here to say goodbye, hon,” she said softly. “I think he’s about to leave.”

They’d been talking about goodbyes for the past week. Richie knew Eddie was leaving today, and had just assumed he would be spending the day with his mother. A rush of euphoria coursed through him, making him a little lightheaded as he jumped up and scurried out of his bedroom to see his best friend one more time. God knows when the chance he’d get would be— Thanksgiving, maybe, or even Christmas. 

At the sight of Eddie on his doorstep, his cheeks broke out into a grin. Eddie smiled back.

“I can’t stay too long, Mellon’s waiting in the car,” he said. “I just need a reminder that there are grosser things in the world than trains.” he added, gesturing to the shirt Richie had been wearing for three days straight.

Richie laughed, loud and hearty, and then thought of how he doubted he’d be laughing like that for a very long time. “Ouch! Eddie Spaghetti gets off a good one!”

“Yeah, yeah.” a pleasant smile came across Eddie’s face and he was quiet for a moment. “You shoulda seen the fit Ma threw when I left. I thought for a minute that she might lock me in the basement or something.”

He said it lightly, like he was just kidding, but Richie knew he meant it. Eddie was braver than he thought for being able to put up with it at all— Richie knew that if it were him, he’d probably be chained up amongst the Christmas decorations, or whatever it was the Kaspbraks kept in their basement. 

“It’s weird,” he continued, “but even though I hate it when she does that, it made me kind of sad to think she wouldn’t be doing it for like, a few months.”

“It’s not weird to miss your mom,” Richie said. “Even if she’s kind of fucked up, she’s still your mom.” Eddie considered this, and some of the lines creasing his forehead softened. “Besides,” Richie added, “I’ll keep her warm for you, if ya know what I mean…”

Before he could even laugh at his own joke, Eddie shoved him. Hard. and although his expression was not amused, Richie could tell he was trying not to laugh. 

It hit Richie, then, that he would never have this again. No one else in the whole world would push him around and tell him to shut up but secretly (not so secretly) think he was funny enough to keep around. No one else would touch him like that, and he didn’t  _ want  _ anyone else to touch him like that. It was just Eddie. The way they spoke to each other, touched each other, acted around each other— it came as naturally to them as breathing. And in a few minutes, that would all be gone. Richie would have to learn how to breathe again, and it wasn’t as fun on his own. 

“I’m really gonna miss you, Eds,” he said dumbly. “Even though you’re a little dweeb who doesn’t appreciate my gold standard comedy.”

Eddie smiled sadly. “Yeah. I’ll miss you too, jackass.” then he added, “I promise to write to you, though, even if I’m busy, which I know will be.”

“Hey, I’ll be busy too!” Richie said indignantly.

“No you won’t, you don’t do shit. I’ve never seen you actually  _ do  _ work, like, ever.”

“That’s a lie! And slander!” Richie huffed, mostly because he was pretty sure his mom was hovering somewhere in the hallway, listening.

“You’re full of shit.” Eddie was grinning now, clearly much more comfortable in the argument than he was with sentimental talk. That was fine with Richie.

“Well, fine. I promise to write to you too, even though I’ll be crazy busy doing all of my work all the time.” 

Summer was coming to an end. You could see it in the now brown leaves of the trees on Richie’s street, and as the sun began to set they were illuminated a golden colour. The warm light turned Eddie’s skin golden, too, and although he’d thought it before, Richie didn’t think he had ever looked more beautiful. It really, really stung. 

Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Eddie had had enough of seeing people cry today, he figured, and it made Richie feel slightly sick to think his own tears might remind Eddie of his mother. He would never hurt Eddie the way Mrs Kaspbrak did, he simply refused. 

“Well, I’ll see you when I see you, I guess.” Eddie said, fidgeting slightly and avoiding eye contact. 

Richie tried to suppress a sniffle, unsuccessfully. “Yeah, in a while crocodile.” 

Rolling his eyes, Eddie smiled, and began to walk back to the car. He waved once before he got in, then the engine started, and Richie watched as the car disappeared around the block. 

He stood out there on the doorstep for another minute or so before realising it was ridiculous. Eddie was gone. Really gone. He turned, and closed the front door behind him, and as he did so he noticed his mother’s presence behind him.

Like a little kid, he fell into his mother’s ready arms. She held him as he began to weep. 

“I miss him.” he whispered, hiccuping. 

“I know, baby, I know.” she muttered, stroking his hair that she really needed to get around to trimming. There would be time for that, but not now. 

Somewhere across town, Eddie was getting out of a car and into a train with nothing but a suitcase and pure determination coursing through his veins. He was leaving his life behind, and unfortunately, that meant leaving Richie behind. Richie hoped, more than anything, that the sacrifice would pay off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed :) the next part of the series should be here soon but ii've been in a funk with writing lately so not sure when it'll be done but... watch this space i guess lol

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked this first part, comments and kudos are very much appreciated :-)
> 
> come find me on twitter @PATTYURLS


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